


Flotsam

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-09
Updated: 2006-04-08
Packaged: 2018-08-15 15:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8062363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: While unconscious, Trip dreams. (04/05/2006)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Since my first fic was really a ficlet, this might count as a first.  
  
Beta: Thanks to Kylie Lee for beta and suggestions and encouragement.  


* * *

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, chief armory and tactical officer and head of security of the Earth starship Enterprise, sat in sickbay once again. He sat by the bedside of his friend Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker and thought about how many times he had sat there before. Sometimes Trip knew that he was there, but more often than not, like now, the commander was unaware that his friend was keeping vigil at his side. Malcolm wasn't sure how he could explain to the man this need to be at his bedside, even though Trip was unconscious, without revealing more of his feelings than he wanted to. For although Malcolm's feelings for the commander ran deepâ€”very deep indeedâ€”there was no indication that Trip felt anything more than friendship in return. And Malcolm, the most dangerous man on the ship, the man who faced every enemy with apparent fearlessness, was very afraid of what would happen if his friend found out how he felt. He was afraid he would lose that friendship, and that was not something he even wanted to think about. So he sat quietly and watched his friend, the man whom he loved, while he slept, and he silently willed him to recover.

* * *

Charles Tucker III loved the ocean. This might be expected from the grandson of the man who had started one of the largest and best shipyards on the coast of the North Carolina colony. He especially loved the ocean at sunrise. For this reason, every morning that the weather allowed he was out early, walking the beach. On this particular morning in early April, he had walked up the beach for about a mile, then sat on his favorite rock to look out over the waves. As his clear blue eyes followed them to the shore, he saw something white and blue lying on the beach. Curious, he decided to investigate further.

The closer Charles came to the flotsam, the more certain he became that it was a person. When he reached the body in question and turned it over, he was relieved to see that the young man was still breathing. However, from the unnatural position of his leg and the blood on his forehead, Charles could see that he was not in good shape. Although Charles noticed that the man wore the trousers and blouse of the British navy, Charles thought it was more important to get help.

Charles hated to leave the man alone, but after a quick examination had revealed that the man, although unconscious, was in pretty good shape, he was a dead weight, and Charles couldn't carry him home. Deciding there was no option, he returned to his house at a run and returned riding bareback on his horse. As carefully as possible, he lifted the man and laid him across the horse. Even so, the man moaned, without regaining consciousness. Leading the horse, Charles returned home once more.

As soon as he got the man onto his bed, Charles removed the stranger's wet trousers and shirt. It was obvious to him after looking more closely at the man's injured leg that it would require more care than he could give. So once again he jumped on his horse, this time heading across the field to his parents' house. When he arrived, Charles was relieved to see Peter, one of the house servants, in the yard.

"Peter!" yelled Charles. "Ride quickly to the village and get Mistress Cutler. Tell her I have a man with a broken leg and a head wound."

As Peter ran off, Charles went into the house to tell his father that he wouldn't be in to work, and why. Then he returned as quickly as possible to his home.

Charles bathed the wound on the man's forehead as he waited for Elizabeth Cutler to arrive. He also took the time to look closely at the man lying on his bed. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, with thick, dark hair and lashes, and fair skin. Though slight, he was well muscled and seemed to be in good condition, other than his wounds. After washing muck, salt, and sand off the man, he dressed him in one of his own nightshirts. Through all the ministrations, the man made no movement or sound.

When Mistress Elizabeth Cutler arrived, Charles filled her in on the events of the morning.

"Has he come around any?" she asked.

"No," answered Charles, "other than a moan when I set him on the horse, he has made no sound, nor has he moved."

"Have you any idea who he is?" Elizabeth asked as she set about tending his head wound.

"No, Mistress. Other than the clothes on his back, he had nothing with him," said Charles.

Elizabeth sent Charles to get a couple of pieces of wood to make a splint, and then she worked the broken leg back into the correct position. After she bandaged his leg, she had Charles follow her into the hallway so they could speak privately.

"What do you intend to do with him?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You said that he was in the trousers of the British navy. That probably makes him the enemy," she replied.

"Well," said Charles, "he doesn't look much like anyone's enemy right now, and he certainly isn't mine. I guess I will just keep him here and look after him, at least until he comes round and can tell me who he is and where he was heading."

Elizabeth said, "For today, just keep a close watch on him. I don't expect he will awaken, as that was quite a bad hit on his head. If he does, give him some water and broth. I will return early on the morrow to check on him."

After Charles gave her his thanks, Elizabeth rode off, and he went back into the cottage. He checked on the still-unconscious man, then puttered around the house, hoping the man would regain consciousness. When he had the mess tidied and had washed out the man's clothes, Charles went back into the bedroom to sit by the bed. He just looked at the man, wondering what brought him to this place and in this condition. After a while, he left to prepare a meal and do other small jobs around the house.

Charles's s mother came by to check on Charles and his guest, but left when she saw there was really nothing she could do to help. By nightfall, there was no change in the man's condition. Charles was concerned that he might awaken in the night and need something, so he made a pallet on the floor and lay down to sleep.

Sometime in the night, Charles woke to a small sound. Unsure what he had heard, he lay still for a moment. Then again he heard the soundâ€”a moan coming from the bed. He quickly went to the man lying there, who was still unconscious but moving restlessly. Charles laid his hand on the man's face and discovered that he was warm to the touch. Charles kept his hand on the man's brow for a moment, and then gently touched his cheek, muttering soothing words. For a time this seemed to calm the man. But as his temperature climbed, he started moaning and twisting around. Soon the sound of labored breathing joined the moans. Not knowing what else to do, Charles got a cloth, dipped it in cool water, and began wiping the man's brow, face and neck. He kept this up until Elizabeth showed up at his door, as she had promised, soon after sunrise.

"How is our patient this morning?" Elizabeth Cutler asked by way of greeting, when Charles opened the door.

"He was fine all of yesterday, but sometime in the night, he began to have a fever. I have kept a cool cloth on his brow, but it continues to rise. His breaths are no longer coming easily. I worry for him," answered Charles.

"This isn't a surprise," said Elizabeth. "He must have swallowed saltwater in his trip to our shore, and with the chill he got...Let us see what we can do for him." Elizabeth prepared a poultice for the young man's chest and showed Charles how to change it. She also prepared syrup for the congestion, and she told Charles to try to drip some into his mouth every four hours. She then told him there wasn't much else to do at this time but pray. "When he is fevered," she said, "try to cool him down with cool cloths or tepid baths. When he has chills, keep him warm. Try to get some water down him every chance you getâ€”small amounts only so he doesn't choke. If there is change, or if he wakens, please send for me."

So Charles returned to his care of the injured man. As he cared for him, he also began to talk to him.

"I don't know your name," he said, "and I know you can't hear me. But it doesn't seem right to spend all this time with you without ever acknowledging that you are here. I wish I knew what to call you. You ought to have a name." And as he talked, he changed poultices, bathed face and wrists, placed and removed blankets with tireless tenacity.

In the afternoon, Nancy Tucker arrived at her son's home. "How is your guest today, Charles?" she asked.

"Not so good, Mama. His fever gives him no rest, and his breathing is definitely troubled. I am doing all that Mistress Cutler advised, but I see no improvement."

"Well, this could take a bit of time," said his mother. "I am here to relieve you for a spell. I doubt you got much sleep last night, from the looks of you, and you probably won't sleep much tonight either. Go in there, eat some of that dinner I brought, and then lie down on the sofa. I will wake you before dark so I can get back home."

With a tired nod, Charles did as his mother instructed. After a couple of hours' sleep, he was ready to return to his vigil when he awoke. "I'll return tomorrow, son," said Mrs. Tucker, "but you know where I am if you need me." And she gave her son an encouraging hug.

Charles returned to the stranger's bedside. The stranger was warm again, and moving restlessly. Charles removed the young man's sweat- soaked nightshirt, bathed him man in cool water, and dressed him again in a dry shirt. He replaced the poultice, slipped some syrup into his mouth, and settled down by his bed. Thinking the man might be comforted by his presence, he placed his hand on his arm and began to talk in a soothing voice. The topics were nothing important. He just talked about everyday, homey things.

At some point, he dozed off. When he came to with a start, he found the stranger shivering violently with a chill. Charles added another blanket to the bed, then another, but the man continued to shiver. He considered moving the man to the other room and making a big fire, but decided that would take too long. Knowing the man didn't have energy to waste on shivering, Charles removed his own clothes, donned a nightshirt, and climbed into the bed with him. For a few minutes the man continued to shiver. Then, with a sigh, he turned himself slightly, cuddled up to the warmth of Charles's body, and returned to a deep sleep. After a while, Charles also fell asleep, only to awaken in a few hours when the fever returned. Once again, he worked to cool the man down.

For several days, the routine was virtually unchanged. Elizabeth Cutler came to check on the patient. Nancy Tucker came to ensure her son got some food and rest. Charles Tucker tended the stranger around the clock, trying to keep him alive. If asked, he couldn't have said why he worked so hard to help this stranger. It just seemed to him the thing to do. While tending the man, Charles continued to talk to him. He told him of his work, his dreams, and his fears. After all, the man was a safe audience: he couldn't hear, judge, or respond. But even so, Charles found himself wishing the man could answer him.

When Charles woke in the bed next to the stranger on the sixth morning, he immediately had a feeling that something was different. He lay without moving for a moment, then turned his head toward the man. And found he was looking into a pair of stormy gray-blue eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

"Why are you in my bed?" the young man croaked. Charles was not surprised to hear that the man had an English accent.

"Actually, you are in my bed," Charles said as he got out.

The man seemed to think about that for a minute. Then, "Who are you?" he asked.

As he got the man a cup of cool water, Charles introduced himself. Then he asked, "And you are?"

On hearing this question, the stranger got very still. "Don't you know?" he asked.

"No," Charles replied.

"Neither do I."

The two men just looked at each other for a minute. Then Charles heard the sound of Mistress Elizabeth Cutler's horse coming into his yard. He pulled his trousers on and went to let her in. At the door, he explained about the stranger's awakening and his curious inability to remember his name.

Elizabeth went into the bedroom and, with an air of complete confidence, began to examine the patient, talking quietly to him as she did so. "Good morning, sir," she said. "I am Mistress Cutler. Mr. Tucker has been overseeing your care since you washed up on his shore, with my guidance for things medical. You have broken your left leg, and you have a nasty bump on your head. You also have a bit of congestion in your lungs. For the past few days you have battled a fever and chills, but it seems to be better this morning. The wound on your head looks to be healing well, and I see no signs of trouble with your leg. Mr. Tucker tells me you can't remember your name?"

"No," the stranger said. "As a matter of fact, I don't seem to remember much. That is, I know how to talk, and I am sure I can read and write. I think I could ride a horse. But I don't know anything." The young man had a look of distress on his face.

"I wouldn't worry overmuch," said Elizabeth. "With a bump on the head like you got, I am not too surprised. I will make a guess that within a few days, as your body continues to heal, you will regain your memories. Your job for now is to rest, eat, and rest some more. I am going to show Mr. Tucker some things about your care, and then I must go. But I will be back on the morrow to see you again." And with that, she led Charles out of the room.

"Is what you told him true?" Charles asked.

"Well, I have heard of cases where a blow to the head caused a loss of memory. Only time will tell whether he will remember, or how much."

"What do we do?" Charles wanted to know.

"Are you willing to continue to care for him?" Elizabeth Cutler asked.

"Of course!" Charles replied. "There is no way I would turn him out now!"

"Then we just continue to treat his injuries and illness. Give him nourishing food, let him rest, and encourage him. What about your work?" she asked.

"It won't be a problem. If I need to go in to work, I can get someone to stay with him."

Elizabeth gave him a few more instructions and left. Charles stepped into the bedroom to inform the man that he would prepare him some breakfast.

"Why were you in bed with me?" the stranger wanted to know.

Charles blushed slightly and answered, "Cooling you when you were fevered wasn't too hard. But when you had the chills, I had a difficult time getting you warm. If I crawled into bed with you, you would lay up next to me, and you seemed to warm up and sleep better."

"Oh," the stranger replied. "Thank you. It seems I owe you a lot for all you have done to care for me."

"Don't worry about it," said Charles. "I am just glad to see you awake. Now I am going to get you some breakfast. Would you like some hot tea?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

"Well, I would, so I will get us some. Just rest for a bit, and I will be back."

After the men had some tea and porridge, Charles helped the young man clean up and changed his nightshirt. "You know," he said, "I need to call you something. It is awkward to talk without a name. Is there something you would like me to call you? When I found you, you had a handkerchief with the initial M on it. Does that mean anything to you?"

The young man thought for a second and shook his head. "No. Nothing. Just call me whatever you want." And he turned his face to the wall.

Charles stood there awkwardly. Then he said, "I need to go up to my folks' house. My mama wanted to know when you woke up, and she said she would have some good soup for you. I will be back soon. Will you be all right for a short time?"

The man just nodded without replying, and Charles quietly left the room.

"Well, Mama, he is awake," said Charles, "and his fever is definitely lower than it has been for days. But he doesn't remember his name or anything else, and I don't think he is doing too well with that."

"Of course he isn't! Imagine waking up in a strange place, and having no idea of your past." Nancy Tucker immediately began to gather things to take to Charles's house. "I have some good chicken soup all ready for him. Let's head over that way. Maybe I can give him a little mother love and help him feel a little better."

When they reached the cottage, Mrs. Tucker put her bundle on the table and then bustled right into the bedroom. She was not surprised when she saw tears on the face of the young man lying in the bed. She sat on the side of the bed and gently swept his hair off his brow. The man looked embarrassed to be caught crying.

"Now, young man, I know that you have had quite a blow this morning. It is no disgrace to be upset with the news you have had. Add your weakness to that and it is a wonder to me that you aren't bawling like a baby," said Nancy Tucker, reaching over and giving the man a gentle hug. "I am Charles's mother. You can call me Mama Tucker. I am so relieved to see you awake and with us this morning. We have all been concerned about you, you know."

At that, the young man looked surprised. "For me?" he said. "But you don't even know me!"

"And why would that matter?" Mrs. Tucker asked from her mother's heart. "You are a person in need of care, and of course we are concerned for you! But I have to agree with Charles. We need a name to call you, just until your memory comes back. Then we can all have a laugh about how far off we are with the name we give you. My own father's name was James. Can we call you that?"

With a sweet smile, the young man replied, "I would be honored to be named after your father, Mrs...Mama Tucker."

"Charles! Come on in here," Mama Tucker called to her son. "We have agreed that for now, this young man will be called James."

Charles came into the room and reached out to shake James's hand. With a big smile he said, "Glad to meet you, James."

Mrs. Tucker gave James a drink of water, straightened the covers around him, and ordered him to get some rest. With a smile and a "Yes, ma'am, Mama Tucker," he settled into the pillow and closed his eyes.

Back in the main room, his Mama told Charles that she would be staying with James for the day and he was to go to work.

"Are you sure, Mama?" Charles asked.

"Yes, son, it will do you good to get out of the house, and I am sure your father would enjoy having you at the office for a time." What she didn't say was that James would probably benefit from a mother's presence for a while.

So Charles headed to the shipyard. Designing and building ships was a job Charles loved. As a matter of fact, he couldn't decide if he enjoyed the designing or the building best. He felt lucky to have a job where he could do both. But even though he was glad to be back at work, and he enjoyed the interaction with his father, grandfather, and brothers, he often found his thoughts straying back home and wondering how James was doing. By the end of the workday, he was ready to get home and see how the day had gone for his mother and James.

When Charles walked into his house, his mother met him with, "Your dinner is on the stove. James is to just have soup again. He has rested well, but his fever seems to be up again this evening. I would stay, but I really need to get back. Do you think you can handle things?"

"Mama, I have been handling things for close to a week now. Just head on home and tell the family I said thanks for sharing you today." And after giving her son a quick hug, Mrs. Tucker was out the door.

James was asleep when Charles stepped into the bedroom. His face was pale, but his cheeks were flushed, and his brow was furrowed as if in pain. Charles walked over to the bed and gently brushed the hair from James's brow and laid a cool hand on his cheek. James turned to his hand, and his brow smoothed. Charles then went back to the routine of placing a cool cloth on his fevered patient. James woke enough to take a small bowl of soup and some water, but soon he was in a feverish sleep again. After a few hours, the fever passed, and the chills returned. Charles was wary of getting into bed with James, even to warm him up, after James's reaction that morning. But as the shivers continued and James began moaning, Charles gave in and slipped into the bed. It wasn't long until James curled into Charles's side and fell into a sound sleep. Charles just sighed, softly stroked James's back, and settled for the night.

* * *

James was still asleep when Charles awoke just before sunrise the next morning. He had been missing his morning walks since the day a week ago, when he found the injured man. But now he felt that James was sleeping soundly enough and quietly enough that he could take some time to enjoy the sunrise. He set off at a brisk pace and walked down the beach to his rock. He sat there for a few minutes, but not wanting to leave James alone for too long, he soon headed back home.

He was surprised when he entered the bedroom to be met by a scowling James, who demanded, "Where were you? I woke up, alone, with no idea where you were or when you would be back. What if I had needed something?"

Charles was a bit put out with the greeting, but held back on what he started to say. Instead, he apologized. "Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I only took a walk on the beach and wasn't gone that long. Is there something you need?"

James seemed to melt back into his pillow. "No," he said, "I am the one who should be sorry. After you have been so good to me...I just. I don't feel well. My leg hurts, and I am so tired of this bed."

"Well, I think that is a good sign," Charles replied. "If you are feeling good enough to notice how bad you feel, you must be better. Tell you whatâ€”if Mistress Cutler agrees, I'll carry you out to the yard this afternoon, and you can enjoy the view and the fresh air."

By the time Elizabeth Cutler arrived, Charles had gotten breakfast for the two men and had helped James get cleaned up. After examining the young man, Elizabeth agreed that a short stay outside would be good for James. She also informed the men that she thought James was well on the road to recovery and was no longer in need of daily visits from her.

"Send for me if you need me, but otherwise I will be back round in a few days," she said as she was leaving.

Before long, the sound of a wagon heralded the arrival of more visitors. Peter had brought Mama Tucker.

"Mornin', Mama," Charles said. "What did you bring me?"

Mrs. Tucker gave her son a hug and said, "When James was so sick and your nights busy, I didn't worry about you having a place to sleep. But with him on the road to mending and more likely to sleep through the nights, I though you might appreciate another bed. Also thought you might appreciate this fresh pie I made with the last of the winter apples."

"Mama, you think of everything. That bed will surely be appreciated. That sofa is a might short for me! I guess we'll force down that pie, too. Mistress Cutler came this morning and said James is doing well. She won't be needing to come so often anymore, and if James behaves himself, he can even sit outside for a spell." Charles and his mother entered the house.

"Well, I am sure that he will be good as gold," Mama Tucker replied, as she swept into the bedroom and gave James a quick hug. "He does look better this morning."

"While Peter is here, I'll just get him to help me carry the bed in and get it set up," said Charles. "You won't mind the close quarters, will you, James?"

James shook his head. "I feel bad having forced you from your bed, Charles. I certainly won't force you from your room, too."

"Now don't start that, James. I have been glad to have youâ€”glad I could help. And now that you are actually alert, I am looking forward to the company," said Charles as he headed out the door.

Mama Tucker and Peter left not long afterward, leaving a second bed in the bedroom, and dinner and pie in the oven. Charles and James spent the rest of the morning reading and, in James's case, napping. After enjoying the meal left by Mrs. Tucker, Charles set up a chaise longue on the front lawn, with several blankets and pillows. He then returned to the bedroom and picked up James. Surprised by how light the man seemed, Charles teased him about needing to fatten him up. When they stepped out the door, James let out a tremendous sigh. Charles stood for just a moment, James in his arms, seeing his beautiful view anew through the eyes of his guest.

After Charles had James settled, comfortably and warmly wrapped in the blankets, he sat beside him on a quilt laid on the ground. James looked around like a hungry man at a banquet. "This is lovely. Just lovely. How fortunate you are to face this sight every day of your life!" he exclaimed.

The afternoon passed quietly. One or the other of the men would occasionally make a comment and receive an answer, but for the most part the two just sat in companionable silence, Charles reaching out to pat the younger man on the arm every now and then. James napped a good bit, and Charles would catch himself watching the other man. He wondered who James really was, what his life was like, and who was searching for him at this very moment. He also wondered why he felt so very comfortable with this man who was a complete stranger to him.

The next week passed peacefully. Elizabeth Cutler came twice to check on James, and on both occasions announced that he was making progress. Nancy Tucker or Peter would come every morning to stay with James while Charles went to the shipyard. By 1 o'clock in the afternoon, Charles would be home to share lunch with James, and then to carry him outside. As James recovered more of his strength, they spent more time talking or playing games, like checkers or chess. The first evening they played chess, Charles was struck by the incongruity of a man who could remember how to play chess, and very well at that, but couldn't remember his own name. But he made no comment to James, not wishing to cause him more distress.

And every day, Charles found himself looking forward to the afternoon and evening with greater anticipation. Frequently he would wonder at the friendship he was forming with this man after such a short time. They were not much alike. James was quiet, reserved in speech, and spare in movement. Charles liked to talk, enjoyed everyone and everything around him, and spread affection freely to his family. He didn't even notice that this tendency to show affection was extended to James. As he walked past the man's chair, he would gently touch his shoulder or arm. And as he settled James in bed every night, he would unconsciously brush his hair off his brow. If James noticed this behavior, he made no comment.

During the third week of James's stay with Charles, Elizabeth declared that he was well enough to begin to move around with the aid of crutches. Charles immediately set to work to craft crutches that would be just right for James. The first time he got out of bed and stood, he was very weak. If not for Charles's quick support, he would have fallen. But after a few tries he could move across the floor. And within a few days he was able to get outside under his own power.

Before long, Charles was leaving James on his own at the house. He was able to get around on his own, even take care of some household chores and help with meals, if needed. Mama Tucker would frequently show up, just to give the young man some affection, or to bring a home-cooked treat, and occasionally Charles's brothers would show up for a visit. Charles loved telling James about the work that he so enjoyed, and it seemed to him that James loved hearing about this important part of Charles's life. The two men would spend the evening in conversation, games, reading, or just silence, often staying up quite late because neither would make the move to end the comfortable time.

And at night, Charles would lie in bed at night and remember what it had felt like to be cuddled up to James.


	3. Chapter 3

One day James asked Charles if he could accompany him to the shipyard.

"I am steady on the crutches now, and should be able to ride a horse. I don't think I would be a bother, and I would really like to see your work."

After a strangely uncomfortable silence, Charles said, "I don't know if that would be such a good idea."

"Why?" asked James. "I tire of staying in the house all the time, and I would like to see this shipyard I hear so much about."

Hesitantly, Charles answered, "We know you're Englishâ€”your accent. But there's more. When I found you, James, you were wearing the uniform of the British navy."

James just looked at him. "So...what does it matter?" He frowned. "Why haven't you told me before?"

"I didn't tell you before because by the time you were awake, I sort of forgot. And then the subject just never came up. You were in that uniform, or at least in the trousers and blouse. No jacket or rank insignia, though. And it matters because we are at war with Britain."

James looked shocked. "You are at war with the British?" He couldn't seem to take in what he was hearing. "But I don't understand. If I am the enemy, then why did you take care of me? Why are you still taking care of me? Shouldn't you...send me somewhere or something?"

"I took care of you because you were injured and needed help. When I found you with a broken leg and head wound, you weren't in a shape to be anyone's enemy. I have seen the army hospitals, and they aren't a fit place for anyone. I keep you here now because you are my friend."

James touched his head, as if it would help him remember. "I don't understand. Why are we at war? What am I doing here?"

"The American colonies are at war for their independence. Britain is at war because they want to keep possession of the colonies. I don't know why you are here in North Carolina. You are here in my house because I want you here."

"Can't you get in trouble for having me here?"

"Well, you see, that is part of the problem of taking you to the shipyard. While my family is in complete agreement about taking care of you, and Mistress Cutler would never turn away a person who needed her help, not all of the people around would feel the same. And..."

"And what?" James asked, with concern in his voice.

"We build ships for the colonial navy. And for the North Carolina navy. I trust you, James. But I don't know who you will be when you regain your memory. I don't know what your loyalty to your country might require of you. I just..."

After a period of silence, James replied in a subdued voice, "I guess I can understand that. But I...I thought you thought of me as a friend. How can you think I would betray you?"

Charles immediately left his chair, got down on his knees in front of James, and took both of his hands in his. "James, you are my friend. I trust you. But this isn't about just me. Please, don't be angry."

James looked away. "Maybe it would be best if...if you took me to the military. Or let me go to try to find my people."

Charles looked crushed. "Is that what you want, James? I will take you as far as I can to where the British are, if that is what you want. But if it matters to you what I want, I want you to stay hereâ€” at least until you have your memory back. I know that then you will have to return to your life and responsibilities. But I would like to have my friend here as long as possible."

"Really?" James tightened his grip on Charles's hands. "I would really prefer to stay here."

"I know that it is boring for you to stay around here. I wish there was something I could do. I just worry. What if someone recognized you, or questions your presence?"

"No, Charles, don't worry about it. I am content to stay here on this beautiful beach."

Charles sat back. "Do you want me to stay with you today? Can you think of something you would like to do?"

"Go to work, Charles. I will be here when you return. But perhaps, sometime, we could take a ride on the beach, or perhaps, go sailing?"

"It's a deal." And Charles, who hadn't realized that he was still holding James's hands, gave them a squeeze before he stood up to leave.

* * *

It was a beautiful spring Sunday, and Charles and James decided to go sailing. Charles brought a two-man sailing skiff from the shipyard; they put a lunch in a basket and set sail along the coast. The weather cooperated with gentle winds, and the sun, though warm, was not too strong.

After more than a month of being, for the most part, confined to the beach cottage or the area around it, James was clearly thrilled to be out. Though still restricted by his broken leg, he could get around the small boat well enough, if somewhat slowly. Charles also enjoyed being outâ€”he enjoyed the beautiful weather and the thrill of being on the ocean. But mostly he enjoyed the look of pure bliss on James's face.

After sailing for a couple of hours, they anchored in a sheltered cove. Charles carried the basket and a quilt up to a spot on the beach that was shaded by a large tree. Then he returned to the skiff to carry James to the picnic. The beach was too sandy and the footing too uncertain for James to navigate.

As Charles was carrying him, James remarked, "I will be glad when this is no longer necessary."

Charles just smiled and said, "Just be still and enjoy the ride. I don't think this is so bad."

Before James could respond, Charles set him on the quilt. They enjoyed the delicious meal that Mama Tucker had prepared, and then both men stretched out to rest.

James was tired. The morning's activity, combined with the warmth of the spring day and the large meal he had just eaten, soon had him sound asleep. Charles wasn't tired at all. Instead, he was feeling strangely restless. He didn't want to sleep. But he didn't want to go anywhere either. Instead, he contented himself with just looking at his friend.

Looking at James's face, he took note once again of the thick, dark lashes lying in contrast to the fair skin on those high, fine cheekbones. Then he noticed the soft-looking, expressive lips, remembering the soft, clipped tones of his friend's very proper accent.

"Friend," he reminded himself. "What are you doing looking at your friend like that? Your male friend."

Despite the self-admonitions, Charles couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from James. He focused on the light pulsation at the base of his throat, how his body narrowed from broad shoulders to slender hips. Closing his eyes, he remembered how James's muscles looked as they moved under his skin when Charles as helping him to dress. He remembered what it had felt like to have James curled up against him as he slept...

"Stop it!" Charles was surprised to hear his voice. He had meant to tell himself, not to say it out loud. He looked at James, and sure enough the man had awakened and was looking at him quizzically.

"Charles?" James rolled on his side to face Charles. "Did you say something?"

"I am sorry, James, I didn't mean to awaken you. I was talking to myself."

"What were you doing that you had to yell at yourself like that?"

"Really, James, it was nothing. Are you ready to go, or do you want to rest a while longer?"

James frowned. "Now I'm curious. I am fine right hereâ€”but I do wonder what it was that set you off like that."

Charles couldn't meet James's eye. He felt sure that James would be able to tell what he had been thinking. He tried to think of something that would satisfy James's curiosity without revealing the truth, but he had never been good at dissembling. As he lay there with James staring at him, he could feel the heat of his blush.

Finally James took pity on his friend. "Fine," he said, "if you don't want to tell me, I won't push. I am ready to go now."

Charles got up with a sigh of relief. He bent down to pick his friend up. As James put his arm around Charles shoulder, James brushed his hand over the hair at the nape of Charles's neck. Charles couldn't repress the shiver that ran down his spine at that contact. He quickly carried James to the skiff and placed him carefully on the bench. Then he returned to get their belongings. James sat in the boat and watched him with a small smile on his face.

For a while, the two men sailed in contented silence. Charles sat at the stern of the boat, turned so that his left arm was working the tiller, and James sat at the bow, watching the waves as the boat sliced through them. As Charles noticed the sun heading toward the horizon, he suggested they return home. James carefully made his way back to where Charles was sitting.

"Must we?" he asked. "I had a good rest, and I am so enjoying this day. I would like to hold onto it for as long as possible."

"All right," agreed Charles. "We will stay out till the sun sets, but I think I will start heading back in that direction."

James sat next to Charles. Charles inhaled sharply as he noticed how close James sat to him. Surely he wasn't aware of how close he was. As unobtrusively as possible, Charles shifted slightly away. James simply turned out to look at the waves.

As the sun continued its downward movement, the sky darkened behind them, while in front, it glowed in shades of orange, pink, and purple. Using the excuse of lifting his injured leg onto the bench, James once again moved closer to Charles, turning so that his back was resting against his friend.

"Are you all right?" Charles asked. "Is your leg hurting you?"

"Not really," replied James, "although there is just a slight throbbing. I thought if I put it up..."

"Are you comfortable?"

James pushed back into Charles's chest with a sigh, and laid his head on his friend's shoulder. "Yes, Charles, I am very comfortable."

Shocked, Charles went completely still. "James. Are you teasing me?"

"No, Charles. Believe me, I am completely serious."

"Serious. About what?"

James lifted his head to look into his friend's eyes, their faces just inches apart. "Well, you see Charles. That is the problem. While I know I am serious, I am not sure what I am serious about." And he laid his head back on Charles shoulder.

With a sigh, Charles rested his cheek against the dark hair of his disturbing friend. He brought his right hand around and rested it on James's where it sat on his lap, and steered the skiff into the sunset.

When they arrived back home, Charles tied the skiff at the dock, then picked James up and started to the house. Just inside the door, he set James down, only to find himself held tightly by James's arms around his neck. They stood quietly that way for a couple of minutes. Charles pulled back and looked down into James's face. James just looked back at him, gave a tiny smile, and then said, "I am tired. I think I will head on to bed. Good night, Charles."

After unloading the boat, Charles sat on the beach. He stayed there for a good part of the night.


	4. Chapter 4

The routine they had established didn't change the next day, despite the disturbing events. They spoke as usual to each other, and Charles went to work after eating a quick breakfast. He stayed late at work, unwilling to face James, not sure of what to think or what to do. Supper was quiet, and cleaning up afterward took little time. Instead of sitting in the living room by the fire, Charles once again retreated to the beach.

Charles was surprised when James sat down beside him, knowing how hard it was for him to maneuver on the sand. He was also surprised that he had been so lost in thought that he didn't hear his approach. The two sat uncomfortably for a minute.

"How old are you, Charles?" James asked.

Though somewhat surprised by the question, he replied, "Twenty-nine years."

"How is it that you have never married?"

"I don't know," Charles said. "There have been times when I thought about it, but I really wasn't comfortable with the ladies in question. I just couldn't picture a lifetime with either of them. I just...I just guess I haven't met the right lady yet."

"I don't know how old I am. I don't know if I have ever been married. I don't know how to describe what it is I am feeling for you, either. I am confused. Because when I look at you, when I think about you, it's...it's like I think I might feel about a woman."

"James! I am a man. You are my friend. This is just not right. Not normal."

"Can you tell me you haven't had the same sort of thoughts? Can you tell me you don't feel something?"

Charles sat looking out at the ocean. Beside him, James just waited.

"No," Charles said at last.

James turned to Charles. "No?"

"No, I can't tell you that I don't feel something. I can't tell you that I don't think of you like that. But I also can't tell you how I feel about all of this. Because I don't know myself."

"I don't either. I mean. I flirted with you yesterday. But..."

"James, I look at you and I see a friendâ€”a man that in a very short time has come to mean a lot to me. Someone that I can talk to openly, with whom I can do things or just sit quietly, and be content either way. But I also see a beautiful man. Someone who makes me feel weak inside, and causes stirrings. And I don't know how to deal with this."

Slowly James reached over and placed his palm against Charles's cheek. Charles closed his eyes and turned into his hand. James then slid his hand to the back of Charles's neck and pulled his face down closer. When Charles opened his eyes, James kissed him softly on the lips. Then he pulled back and waited for Charles response.

Abruptly Charles stood up and headed down the beach.

Behind him, James watched him go, and got up and went into the house.

* * *

Charles went to his favorite rock and sat, watching the waves rolling into the shore and back out again. He watched the stars appear, one by one, in the night sky. He listened to the sounds of the night creatures. And he took comfort in the normality of the world around him, because on the inside, his world was being turned upside down. When James's lips touched his, it was like a fire had been lit. His whole body seemed to tingle, and his senses seemed to be on alert. What was going on?

He had heard about men who had relationships with other men, but never in any kind of context he thought related to himself. The stories he'd heard were never told in polite company. There were tales, told by giggling boy-men who were just becoming aware of sex, of unnatural men and unnatural affections. When he was a boy, there had been whispered, overheard conversations about strange Mr. Simmons, who left town suddenly. It was a topic that was preached against in the church.

None of that described what he felt about James. It didn't feel unnatural. It felt like an essential part of life that he only now realized that he was missing.

Tired and dispirited, no closer to understanding what he wanted or what he was going to do, Charles finally returned to his cottage. He was surprised to see James in the chaise longue in the front yard. He was sure the other man would have retreated to bed and he wouldn't have to face him again this night. But there he was.

James reached out a hand. "Charles."

Charles came and sat on the edge of the chaise.

"I am sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you. I can leave tomorrow, if you can..." He got no further as Charles leaned over and quieted his sentence with his lips. Although it was still a chaste kiss, it was more intense than the first. Both men were breathing heavily when they pulled apart.

"I may not be sure exactly what I want, or what we can do about this, James, but don't leave. I don't want you to leave me." And Charles pulled him close, one arm around his back and the other gently stroking his hair. "Give me some time, please."

"I am here, for as long as you want me, Charles."

They went into the house and prepared for bed in silence. James got into bed and was surprised when Charles sat on the side of the bed. He leaned over and kissed James again, this time finishing the kiss with a gentle lick of the other man's lips. He stood up and went to his own bed.

"I don't know how men have a relationship like this, James." Then he put out the lamp and turned to the wall.

* * *

The next morning, after a tense breakfast, Charles left at the usual time. But this time, instead of heading to the office, he went to his parents' house. He found his mother in the garden, working on her roses.

"Mornin', Mama," Charles greeted her.

"Charles! This is a pleasant surprise," his mother answered. "What brings you here this beautiful morning?"

"Mama, I need to talk to you."

"Well, grab that spade and sit down here and help with these weeds. What's on your mind?"

"Mama," Charles stopped talking and started chopping at the weeds. "I, uh..."

"Its James, isn't it, son?" "Mama?"

"I know you, Son. I can read you. You are upset, undecided, and tense. And I am pretty sure it is about James."

"Mama, why do you suppose I haven't ever married?"

"I assume it is because you have never found a woman you loved," his mama answered.

"What if it is something else?"

"James?"

It really helped, thought Charles, that his mama wasn't looking at him as they talked. "I...feel something for him. I am not sure what, and I'm not sure of what I want. I have never felt this way about another man beforeâ€”never even thought about it. Never felt this way at all," he said.

"I imagine it has more to do with James himself, and not the fact that he is a man as opposed to a woman. How does James feel?"

"I uh...I am pretty sure he feels something, too." He didn't want to tell his mother about the kisses, about holding James on the boat. "What do I do, Mama?"

"It seems you have a few choices. You can continue as friends, he can leave, or you can begin a romantic relationship. Is that how you see it?"

"Yeah."

This time his mother did look at him, with sympathy in her eyes. "And every one of those choices will lead to pain, for both of you. If he stays, as a friend, there is the pain of unrequited love. Perhaps the least of the pains, but perhaps not. To see him every day, and know he can't be yours. If he leaves, there is the loss, of friendship and love. And if you start a relationship, there are many pitfalls. You will have to live a secretive life. And there is no way of knowing what will happen when he regains his memory, but there is a good chance that he will have to leave after all."

"You seem to be taking all this calmly. You don't seem surprised?"

"You are my son, Charles. I have been watching you ever since James showed up. I have never seen you so focused on someone. No, I am not surprised. I want happiness and contentment for you. I do want you to know, no matter what your decision, I love you and I will always be here for you."

With tears in his eyes, Charles reached out to hug his mama. "What did I do to deserve you? You are the best mother in the world."

"And don't you forget it."

Charles headed back home. He found James sitting on the chaise in the front yard, looking at the ocean. He came up to him, sat him up a bit, and slipped in behind him. Then he pulled the other man back to lean against him and wrapped his arms around him. Content to be together, they sat quietly. Finally Charles broke the silence.

"I didn't go right to work this morning. I felt a need to talk to my mama."

Surprised, James turned his head to look at Charles. "About us?"

"Yeah. She wasn't too surprised. Seems she has been watching me watching you. She had some wisdom for me, but she didn't tell me what to do. She just said she loves me."

"You have a wonderful mother. A wonderful family, actually."

"Yeah, I do. What do we do, James?"

"I think I love you, Charles."

"But I have a problem with that. I am the only person you know. Maybe you would love someone else, if you knew anyone else. Maybe you already love someone, wherever home is for you. Maybe this isn't fair to you."

"I think I love you, Charles. You. The person. Not the only person I have ever met, but you. The man who takes care of me with such tenderness. The man who shares his hopes, fears, and dreams with me. The man who makes me laugh, makes me think, makes me tingle down to my toes. I don't really care how many other people there are in the world that I haven't met. I love you."

"My mama said that no matter how we handle this, we would be hurt. She said that you could leave. But that would hurt. She said that you could stay as a friend. That would hurt. We could have a relationship. But that would hurt; when you regain your memory, and have to return to whatever life you had before, or perhaps just because we can never admit our feelings to others. There seems to be no choice but that ultimately we get hurt." Charles looked at the man in his arms and placed a gentle kiss on his temple.

"The thing is, if you leave, or if you stay and we are friends, we only get the hurt. If we have a relationship together, then at least we will have something to look back on."

James twisted awkwardly around in Charles lap. "Does that mean you want me?"

"I do, James. But I still don't know anything about how to have a relationship with a man. I don't even know how to have a relationship with a woman!"

"I don't either, Charles. But I do know that I love you. We will make it work. And we will take the time we have." And he settled back in Charles's arms with a sigh. Charles tightened his arms around the man in his lap, laid a kiss on his head, and looked out at the ocean with an expression of thoughtful sadness on his face.

* * *

The two men spent the rest of the day in normal activities, but found themselves ever more aware of each other. Charles touched James on the shoulder every time he passed. James touched Charles's hand every time he got the chance. Charles caught himself watching every move James made, and seeing the grace that was natural to the man. James listened for Charles's laugh, thrilling at the sound.

When it came time for bed, Charles got quiet. He couldn't hide the fact that he was nervous. He tried to tell himself that this was just James, his friend. But he couldn't help but be aware that his body wasn't agreeing with him.

James came to Charles, laid his crutches aside, and wrapped his arms around his waist. He looked into Charles's clear blue eyes with intensity. "Sleep with me tonight, Charles. Just sleep. I can't tell you how much I have dreamed of waking up with you beside me, like you were that morning I first laid eyes on you."

Charles bent down and captured the other man's lips in a gentle kiss. "Yes," he said. And then he kissed him again with more passion. His tongue teased James's lips, prodding for an opening. When James opened his lips to admit him, he sighed and explored the other man's mouth. When they had to stop for breath, he pulled James tight to his body, laid his cheek against his dark hair, and sighed again.

They went into the bedroom and began to prepare for bed. Though Charles had seen James nude many times, it was different to be looking at the man as a potential lover rather than as a patient. He watched the play of his muscles as he removed his shirt and trousers. Clad in his underwear, James climbed into the bed and watched Charles. He openly watched and admired, smiling as Charles removed his clothes. Charles was taller than James and well built. The muscles in his upper torso showed the fact that he frequently spent time in the physical side of shipbuilding. The muscles in his legs were long and lean, his hips slender, and his buttocks firm. He too stripped down to his underwear, blew out the lamp, and slid into bed. He lay on his back and pulled the other man over until his head rested on his chest. The he ran his hand up and down James's back, from the nape of his neck to the top of the underpants.

"This feels good," he said. "You feel good against me."

"Mmm, yes," agreed James. He pulled himself up until his face was even with Charles's. He slid his right leg between Charles's legs, and with his right hand reached up and began to ruffle Charles's hair. "Very good." And he kissed Charles a slow, sweet kiss, full of promise. As they kissed, his right hand slid down the side of Charles's s face, traced along his jaw, and trailed down his throat to his chest, where it rested against the soft blond hair.

Charles continued to run his hand up and down James's back, until he finally brought it to rest against his small, tight butt, pushing the other man into him.

They continued to kiss, long and slow, neither man quite ready to push for anything more. Finally Charles withdrew. "I think we should get some sleep."

"Yes," James said. "I can dream about tomorrow. And you. I love you, Charles."

"I love you, too. Good night."

* * *

Charles awoke before sunrise the next morning, with a warm body pressed against his, a dark head resting on his shoulder, and a hand on his left nipple, making slow circles around it, and sending sharp jolts directly to his groin. He would never have dreamed that would make him feel so good!

He turned to look at James and saw a look in his eyes that had him gasping for breath. He pulled the other man until he rested on top of him. And he kissed him, hard. This was a kiss driven by passion and need. It continued until Charles was dizzy with need for air. He broke off the kiss, but then started again almost immediately, his tongue plunging into James's mouth, exploring every inch of it, meeting and twisting around James's tongue. As their bodies began to rock, pressed tightly together from chest to hip, their groins connected. Each movement fueled the next until neither man was aware of anything except the building heat and tension. The kisses were now punctuated by moans and small cries as they experienced sensations they had never felt before. Finally, Charles called out James's name as he came in an orgasm that shook him to his core. Barely seconds later, James followed, lost in ecstasy.

The two men lay, replete and spent. James shifted and would have moved, but Charles wrapped his arms tightly around him and kissed him again, slowly and gently, a kiss of love and appreciation. James lifted his head. "Lord, love, that was something!"

Charles chuckled. "And that was an understatement. I never knew, James. I can't wait to see what else there is to experience in loving you." He nuzzled the other man, allowing him to slip off his body but maintaining as much contact as possible. He slowly drifted back off to sleep, lulled by the sound of his lover breathing at his side.

Charles woke again as the sun began to show through the window. Carefully, without waking James, he slipped out of bed. The cool air on his sticky stomach and damp underpants helped him decide that he needed a dip in the ocean. He ran out his front door, down the beach, and dove in. He swam until he was pleasantly tired, and then swam back at a more leisurely pace. Back on shore, he sat on the sand for a while, thinking about the early morning experience with James. Just thinking about it sent shivers running up and down his spine, and caused a stirring in his groin. With a grin on his face, Charles went back into the house and got dressed. Then he went into the bedroom to wake his new lover with a kiss.

Waking to gentle lips on his, and opening his eyes to the sight of his lover's brilliant blue gaze, James stretched in a manner that reminded Charles of a cat.

"Mornin', lover," Charles said with a smile.

James reached up, pulled his head down and kissed Charles tenderly, and then rained small kisses along his jaw and down his throat. "I could get used to this," he said, "but I really wish you were in this bed with me."

"Sorry, darlin', you are just too much of a layabout. I have already been out for a swim this morning, and I'm ready for breakfast before I head to work. I'll have it ready by the time you get in there."

At breakfast, James said, "Charles, I have been thinking of something. It's partly about what you said yesterday, that we couldn't be open in our relationship. I know that you don't get a lot of company around here, but I am sure there must be occasional visitors."

"Yeah, occasionally. I have had a couple of people stop by this month while you were here. Outside of my family and Mistress Cutler, that is."

"Really? I never saw them?"

"No. The first time you were sleeping. The second time it was more of a busybody; she and her husband come around every now and again, trying to fix me up with a daughter or cousin. She didn't stay long."

"Well, that is what I have been thinking about. If I am going to stay hereâ€”and I really do want toâ€”we need to have a story of why I am here. And I think maybe I should have my own room, so there is no talk."

"You don't like sleeping in my room?" Charles asked, raising his eyebrows. "You didn't seem to mind this morning!"

"I am thinking more of a place we can put that extra bed...I don't have any money, so I can't help pay for it, but I will be rid of these crutches soon, and I can build the room while you are at work. It will give me something to fill the days."

"Don't worry about the money, James. I was planning on expanding the house someday anyway, so this is as good a time as any. But do you know how to build a room?"

"I am sure that you must notice the things I do remember. Nothing historical. Couldn't tell you a thing about people or places. But I can name books, and play chessâ€”and I could have sailed that skiff the other day. I can build. For some reason, I think I can also play the piano! I don't understand this memory problem. I just have to live with what I have."

"Sounds good to me. Mistress Cutler said you should be able to have the splint off in a week or so. Then we will see about getting started. For now, you can start on making plans and figuring what supplies you will need. I have to go now. I can't wait till this evening."

"What happens this evening?"

"I get to come home to you. Love you, James," Charles said as he gave the other man a big kiss and headed out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

That night the two men got ready for bed with a mixture if anticipation and trepidation. They wanted to be close, to taste each other's mouths, to feel each other's skin. After he removed his shirt and trousers, James looked at Charles and slowly slid his underwear down his hips and off his legs. Charles looked at the man proudly standing nude in front of him, and his heart began to race. This beautiful man was his.

Charles walked up to James and bent his head over to kiss the other man. The kiss started out gentle, but progressed as he nibbled at James's lower lip and slipped his tongue into his mouth. Then he put both hands on the smaller man's shoulders as James placed one of his hands on Charles's shoulder to support himself. Charles looked at James as his hands traced over his body. First he ran his hands down the slender, muscled arms, wondering at the feel of firm muscle under soft skin. Then he moved his hands around to wander over James's back, tracing the muscles, feeling the skin as it covered his spine and ribs. He followed the ribs around to the front of James's body. Then slowly, almost shyly, he touched the other man's nipples.

At James's intake of breath, Charles bent over and took his mouth, kissing him fervently. Then his mouth trailed down James's throat and to his chest. He loved the soft skin on the almost hairless chest of this man. His mouth found a nipple, and he licked and sucked. James moved unconsciously, thrusting toward Charles mouth. As he was mouthing his nipples, Charles's hands were continuing their exploration of James's body. After moving to his hipbones, Charles raised his head to look at James.

"May I touch you?"

James took Charles's hand and placed it on his erect manhood. "Please."

Both men began to breathe even more heavily. Charles marveled at the feel of the other man in his hands. He was amazed at the heat, the satiny softness, and the heaviness of James in his hand. He wrapped his hand around the shaft and slowly began to move it up and down, all the time continuing to kiss and lick James on his chest, neck, face, everywhere he could reach.

As Charles increased the tempo of both his hands and his kisses, James moaned, "Charles. Oh, love. This...oh lord." As he came in Charles's hand, he called out, and then Charles swallowed the shout with a deep, gentle kiss as he supported the other man. After they had both caught their breath and James could stand again, Charles got a soft cloth and cleaned his lover up.

Then James slowly began to unbutton Charles's shirt as he kissed his mouth lovingly. When he had the shirt off, he looked at Charles for permission to unbutton his trousers. Charles nodded yes and James moved to the first button. As his hand brushed against Charles's bulging manhood, Charles gasped. "Wait! Wait, please...I...I'm not sure..."

"It's okay, Charles," James said. "We'll take this slow as you want."

"I want it, James. I want you. But."

James kissed him, and then turned and crawled into bed. "Take your time, love."

Charles put out the lamp and removed the rest of his clothes. Then he slid into bed with his lover. "Thank you, James. For being patient with me. For loving me."

"I couldn't stop myself from loving you," James said. Then he put his hand up to Charles's face and brought his head down. He reached over and gave him a kiss full of sweetness, love, and promise.

As the kiss deepened, Charles lost himself in the sensation. His hands roamed over James's body, and at first he didn't notice that James was also moving his hands over his body. But as James reached his buttocks and pulled him in until both men were connected at the groin, he moaned. "Oh, darlin', that feels so good."

James reached a hand down between them and wrapped it around both of them. This time, in the dark, feeling safe, Charles didn't protest. Instead, he attacked James's mouth with his tongue, exploring every inch of it, tasting the sweet taste of the man he loved. James began to move his hand up and down, pushing both cocks together, the friction causing both men to writhe. He ran his thumb over the top of Charles's manhood, caressing the slit at the top and rubbing the moisture over both of them. Charles was gasping as the sensation quickly escalated. "Oh, lord. Oh, James," he yelled into the other man's kiss as he came. James came again just a minute after, and both men lay, spent and breathing hard.

"James." Charles ran his hand over James's back, softly touching every bit of him that he could reach. "James."

"Are you all right, love? Did I go too fast for you?"

"I am more than all right. And yes, you probably moved way faster than I would have, but I don't mind a bit. I sure hope we do a lot more of this."

With a chuckle, James hugged his lover close. "I will certainly do my part to see that we do this a lot more. I don't think I can ever get enough of you."

Charles took the cloth and cleaned them both up again, then drew his love close and nuzzled his neck and face. "I love you, James."

"I love you too, Charles." The two content men drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The new lovers passed the next week in a haze of joy. Nancy Tucker watched her son with a mother's eyes and saw the happiness that shone from his face. Charles filled his days with the work he loved, but it was no longer his driving passion. And in the evenings, he returned home to a man who was fast becoming everything to him.

For James's part, other than making preparations for the room he was to build, he had nothing to fill his days but expectation of Charles's return. He read a lot, both books and newspapers. He was at the door each evening, waiting for his lover's return. Some evenings the greeting was full of passion and resulted in the men going straight to the bedroom. Some evenings, the mood was more gentle and romantic, and the two would sit on the chaise in the yard, Charles holding James in his arms, exchanging kisses and sharing thoughts. So far their lovemaking had involved rubbing against each other, exploring each other's bodies, helping each other to orgasm, and lots of kisses. Charles exulted in the feel of his lover's body, the smooth skin, and the long, lean muscles. The smell that was distinctly James never failed to draw a response from him. James was vocal about how much he loved the soft furry feeling of the hair that covered Charles body; loved how it tickled against his own, smoother skin; loved how Charles would give a low growl when James tugged at the hair on his chest.

This night, the weather was warmer and they threw off the blanket. Then they lay on the bed, enjoying the view of their entwined bodies, silver from the moonlight shining through the window. James began kissing Charles, starting at his mouth, and then moving down his jaw, to his throat, and on to his chest. He kissed Charles's nipples, one after the other, licking and nipping gently at them until he had Charles panting and writhing. He continued kissing down the gorgeous body, dipping his tongue into the belly button on the sleek, hard abdomen of his lover. He lifted his head to look at Charles, and he moved his mouth over Charles's erect penis and closed his lips over the head. Charles gasped and jerked his hips.

"Lord, James, what are you doing?"

James just looked at his lover through his thick lashes, and kept his mouth on his cock. He licked up and down the shaft, and then covered the head again, sucking and kissing. Charles moaned and jerked. "James. Stop. Don't. Oooh."

James lifted his head and looked at Charles again with a wicked smile. "Which is it to be, love? Stop, or don't stop?"

"Don't stop, James. Oh, lord, don't...ahh"â€”and Charles was beyond coherence as he came into James's mouth. James was caught somewhat by surprise, and he let his lover's come dribble back out of his mouth. Then he sat up, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and moved back up Charles's body. He caught Charles's mouth in a fierce kiss, plunging his tongue into his mouth and running it all around, until both men were breathless. Then he laid his head on his lover's chest and sighed.

"James, why did you do that?"

"Didn't you like it?" James asked.

Charles lay for a time, nuzzling the dark head lying on his chest. "Yeah. As a matter of fact, it felt wonderful. But whatever made you think of doing that?"

"I can't say. I was just kissing you, and you tasted so good that suddenly I wanted to taste every inch of you. You coming in my mouth was quite a surprising sensation. And I never would have imagined it would taste like that."

"Mmm. Sort of sweet and salty. I tasted it on your kiss. I wonder if you taste the same?"

"Want to find out?"

With a mischievous grin, Charles answered by grabbing the other man's mouth in a hard kiss, and then he began moving down his body, relishing the taste and feel of James under his lips. James tangled his hands in Charles longish blond hair, and held on as he experienced a feeling beyond his imagination.

First Charles slowly and teasingly licked just around the head of James very erect penis. He licked the clear liquid off the slit, then looked at James and licked his lips. "Umm." Then he lowered his head back down and licked all around the base of his cock. He opened his mouth wide and took as much of his lover into his mouth as possible, and began sucking, moving his mouth up and down the length. As he rubbed the underside of the shaft with his lower teeth, James jerked. Charles held his hips down and looked up with a feral grin. "I think I could get to like this. Sure gets a reaction from you!"

"Yes, love, but remember that I will get another turn at this."

"I'm countin' on it," laughed Charles, and then he returned his attention to the pleasure in front of him. After only a few more minutes of loving attention, James came in Charles's mouth. Though a new experience, he swallowed most of the come, and held his lover in his mouth until he calmed down. Then he moved back up the bed and grabbed the smaller man into his embrace.

"I love you, James. I love everything about you. Thank you, for being you."

I love you, too, Charles," a sleepy James replied. They exchanged a few slow, lazy kisses before falling asleep, wrapped around each other.

* * *

Mistress Elizabeth Cutler visited James the next week. She examined his leg, removed the splints, and advised James to try walking. Though his leg was stiff and a little painful, he was able to walk with a slight limp.

"Don't be in too much of a rush to start a footrace, but you should be able to get around all right. If you enjoy the ocean, swimming is good for easing the muscles back into use. But you should not try swimming alone. You should be back at full strength in no time."

"Thank you, Mistress Cutler, for everything. I owe you much." "My privilege, James. I just hope you won't be needing my services again soon!"

When Charles came home that evening, his nude lover greeted him at the front door.

"My! To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"You might notice the lack of any encumbrance on my leg. Mistress Cutler has advised that swimming will be good for the recovery of my muscles, but I am not to swim alone. I thought I might entice you to join me?"

"I think you might be able to, but we might get more swimming done if you were wearing a bit more!"

"Perhaps, but where is the fun in that?" And with that remark, James headed for the water. As quickly as possible, Charles shed all of his clothing, ran to the shore, and plunged in, eyes on the enchanting backside of his lover. He swiftly caught up with the smaller man, and wrapped his arms around him from the back, his groin nestled against James's buttocks, and nuzzled his neck.

"Mmm. I like the feel of you wet." He rubbed his already stiff manhood against the cleft of James's ass, then moved his hands until he was playing with his nipples. James moaned softly and writhed against the blond man. Then he shifted and turned around in his arms. He put a hand behind Charles's neck and pulled him down. He ran his tongue over the other man's lips and pushed it against his lover's tongue. The kiss was languorous, loving. Then he moved his other hand between their bodies and rubbed the tip of Charles penis teasingly. Charles intensified the kiss, and pushed his groin into James's hand. James wrapped his hand around both of them and began to rub up and down. In rhythm with that movement, Charles pushed his tongue further into James's mouth. Soon both were moaning and panting. With a sweet release, they came one after the other, the come washing away in the waves.

"Better than swimming," James murmured.

"Yeah, but probably not helping your leg." Charles gave the other man another swift kiss, then turned and dove into the waves. James followed, and they swam for about ten minutes. By that time, James was tired, so they returned to the beach and walked to the chaise in the yard, Charles arm around James shoulder.

Charles sat down on the chaise, long legs spread out in front of him. Surprising him, James straddled him, facing toward his lover. This made him taller, and he reached down to kiss Charles, a new sensation for both of them. Charles liked the different feeling of James's pushing down into his mouth and was instantly aroused. Charles looked down to see James's stiffly erect manhood touching his stomach, and smiled. Then he reached around the younger man and grabbed his ass with both hands, kneading the firm flesh, enjoying how it felt in his hands. James wriggled with pleasure and then groaned as he felt Charles's cock responding, pushing up against his balls.

James deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue far into Charles mouth, in and out, and twisting it around to touch every area of Charles mouth. When both men were out of breath, he lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth, pulling and teasing the other, at the same time as he ground his ass onto Charles's cock. All Charles could do in response was moan and call out incoherently. Surprised at how quickly his body responded to James, he came so hard that he felt dizzy, and he had to hold onto the smaller man's body for support. James continued to rub his ass against Charles lap and his cock against his stomach until he too reached the pinnacle of sensation, and yelled his lover's name in release.

* * *

The next weeks passed quickly for the two men. James worked on the extra room, and Charles would join him after completing his day at the shipyard. The two enjoyed just being together, spending long hours on their home. Now completely mobile, James's wiry strength could be seen in every move he made. Charles loved to watch himâ€” working on the room, swinging the hammer, or pushing the sawâ€”loved to watch to play of muscles with every neat, controlled movement James made. For his part, James would become entranced with Charles's broad shoulders and muscular back as he watched him heft lumber, or wield an ax.

Of course, spending so much time together and working together, they also had a fair share of disagreements. As James regained his strength, he also gainedâ€”or regained, they couldn't be sureâ€”a strong stubborn streak. He was very sure of exactly how he wanted to do things, and he didn't like Charles having a differing opinion of how it should be done. For his part, Charles would lose his temper and point out that it was, after all, his house, and the building should be done the way he wanted. Sometimes their discussions would degenerate into shouting matches and sometimes into frigid silences. But neither lasted long, and either one would concede to the other, or a compromise would be reached. They also found that making up was very pleasant!

Their days weren't all work, either. They took long walks on the beach, talking about anything and everything. Another time, they rode horseback for hours, enjoying the beautiful summer day, picnicking in a meadow and making love under a cloud-free sky. But their favorite activity was sailing. Starting early in the morning, they spent hours sharing their love of the ocean. Once they even spent the night on the skiff, enjoying the rocking of the waves as they made love under the stars.

Finally the room was finished and outfitted with the extra bed as well as a night stand and clothes chest, which James had also made. The two men invited Charles's familyâ€”parents, siblings, and their spouses and childrenâ€”to see the outcome of their labor. The men told them that until James recovered his memory, he planned to stay there. When Charles Tucker II saw the furniture James had built for the bedroom, he asked if James would like to work crafting furnishings for ships the Tucker shipyard built. Both James and Charles were relieved, as this would fill James's days, as well as legitimize his presence.

That night, as the two men prepared for bed, James said, "Charles, you have a wonderful family, but I find it very hard being around them for any time."

"Why, James? You know they all like you, and they accept you here..."

"That's not it, Charles," said James, as he grabbed the other man and pushed him up against the wall. He pulled Charles's head down and kissed him fiercely. "It's just that when anyone else is here, I have to constrain myself, and that is so hard when I am around you." And James kissed him again while pushing his crotch into that of the other man. Soon the only sounds were harsh breathing, moans and pants.

* * *

As the hot July days slipped by, Charles continued his work at the shipyard. Business was very good, unfortunately because of the war. Mr. Tucker delivered wood and specifications to the beach house, and James was soon busy crafting fittings for the ships.

The days were long, and evening often found the men with barely enough energy to eat before collapsing in bed. Charles was alarmed one day to find that James had collapsed onto his knees under the tree where he worked. He found his lover lying still, curled up, with pale, clammy skin. He immediately thought that James had suffered a relapse.

"James! What is it, darlin'?" he asked, almost beside himself with concern.

"Headache," James managed to mumble. "Hurts. Dizzy, eyes..."

Charles immediately carried the other man into the house and gently laid him on their bed. He got a cool cloth to wipe his face, and then laid another over his eyes. He removed James's clothes and covered him with a sheet. He pulled the curtains over the windows, trying to get the room as cool and dark as possible. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing his lover's hair back from his brow and speaking softly to him.

"James, can you tell me anything else? Do you hurt anywhere else? Can I get you anything?"

"Just hurts," James said weakly. "This is better. Dark. I am tired."

Charles stayed by his side, maintaining contact with James until he drifted off to sleep. Then he prepared himself for bed and came back to lie by his lover. He slept lightly, waking frequently, until he saw that James seemed to be sleeping better, and then he was also able to fall into a deeper sleep.

He woke the next morning to see beautiful blue-gray eyes looking into his.

"Hey, darlin', how are you feeling this mornin'? You look a little more perky."

"Good morning, love. Yes, I am feeling better. I am sorry. I am a lot of trouble."

"You are no trouble, darlin'. I love you. But I am worried. What brought that on?"

"I don't know, love. I have been having headaches for a few days, but nothing like that. I couldn't move. I don't know how long I lay there, and I just couldn't move."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you, love. I just thought it must be the heat. After all, I am not from this area. Maybe I am not used to the heat."

"Maybe. For today, I am staying here with you, and you are going to take it easy. Maybe we will go for a sail later this evening. I love you, James. You are not a worry; you are not trouble. Now, I am going to get you some breakfast."

That evening, when it got a little cooler, they took the skiff out for a sail. James never seemed to tire of skimming over the waves, and Charles never tired of watching his lover's face as he exulted in the experience of sailing.

When they returned to their home, James asked, "Can I interest you in joining me in the bedroom?"

Charles grinned. James was definitely feeling better. "I don't know, darlin'. What do you have in mind?"

"Let me show you." James reached up to Charles, tangled his hand in the hair at the back of the blond man's neck, and pulled his neck down. He then began a slow, thorough exploration of his lover's mouth. He kissed first the upper and then the lower lip, gently nipping and teasing before plunging deep into his mouth. He twisted his tongue around Charles's tongue and sucked, pulling the other man's tongue into his mouth. When they both stopped for breath, he panted, "That is just an example of what I have planned..."

In the bedroom, he reached for the buttons of Charles's shirt. Charles reached up to help, but James shook his head. "No, love, let me make love to you. Just sit back and enjoy the experience."

He slowly removed Charles's shirt, kissing down his chest as he did so. Then he unbuttoned his trousers and slid them off his hips, along with his underwear. As he pushed them down to the floor, he kneeled in front of Charles and delicately kissed the end of his penis. As Charles jumped, James removed his shoes and pushed his pants the rest of the way off. Then he led his lover to the bed and laid him on it.

Still clothed, James lay down on the bed by Charles. He placed kisses on the eyelids of his lover, then down his cheeks and around his jaws, until he reached Charles's mouth. Fiercely, he possessed that mouth, kissing passionately until Charles was dizzy. The kisses then continued down Charles's throat and to his chest. Charles reached up and tried to unbutton James's shirt.

James shook his head no, and then gently placed Charles hands on either side of his head on the pillow. "I am doing this, love. Be still." And he returned to kissing the body of the man he loved.

As his mouth reached Charles's right nipple, he licked the sensitive nub, then nipped gently at it, sucking and pulling until Charles was writhing on the bed. At the same time, James was teasingly moving his hands over Charles's chest, from the other nipple to the ribs, down to the belly button. Then he moved his mouth to the other nipple and continued teasing his lover. Finally he moved on down his body, kissing past his hips, to the sensitive skin on his inner thighs. Charles began voicing low moans, shivering as his lover caressed him with his lips, kissing and sucking, moving up and down both thighs.

Just when Charles thought he had reached a point of ecstasy, James put his mouth on the tip of his penis, lightly licking and sucking just the very end. Charles inhaled sharply and started to reach down to James's head. James chuckled, "Uh-uh. Hands back up there!" and lowered his head back to continue his ministrations. He licked down the shaft, to the base, and around and back up. Then he kissed all over both of his lover's balls, eliciting more moans and writhing. All of a sudden he engulfed as much of his lover's cock as he could into his mouth and began sucking, pulsing in and out, licking, then sucking again. Charles panted, faster and faster, and then called out, "James! Oh, James!" As he came, he saw stars.

After a minute, when Charles had calmed a little, James moved back up the bed and pulled his lover to him, cradling the blond head on his chest. He kissed the top of Charles's head, running his hands lovingly over what he could reach of his body.

"Oh, darlin'. James, that was the most.. that was just. Thank you, James."

"You're welcome, love. Very glad to oblige," James chuckled softly.

"Now," said Charles, "Don't you think you would be more comfortable with less on that beautiful body?" And he began to divest James of his clothing. Slowly, they made passionate love again, then both drifted off to sleep. A few hours later, Charles woke from a deep sleep, feeling his lover's leg between his legs and his lover's lips on his chest.

"Insatiable tonight, aren't you, darlin'?" Charles murmured.

"Are you complaining?" James asked, as he began to tease a reaction from his lover again.

"No way."


	6. Chapter 6

When Charles awoke, it was still dark, but his lover was not in bed with him. When he did not return in a few minutes, Charles got up to find him. Not finding him in the house, Charles pulled his trousers on and went outside, thinking he might be lying on their chaise. James wasn't there, and Charles found himself a little concerned. He headed down the beach, hoping that James had gone to Charles's rock, his favorite place to sit and contemplate.

When he got close enough to see the rock in the predawn light, Charles was relieved to see his lover perched on it. Charles quietly walked up and climbed onto the rock beside him. James sighed and leaned back into him.

"My name is Malcolm Reed. Lieutenant Malcolm Stuart Reed of His Majesty's Royal Navy." Then the younger man turned to his lover and hugged him tightly. The two men sat quietly, holding on to each other for strength, and because they could do nothing else.

Some time later, Malcolm started talking. "My father is Rear Admiral Stuart Reed. Reeds have been in the British navy for as long as there has been a British Navy. My mother's family also, come to think of it. I have a sister named Madeline. Lovely girl.

"My best friend up till this spring has been my manservant, Travis. When I was eight years old, my father took me on a trip with him to the Caribbeanâ€”my first long ocean voyage. I was fascinated with everything. On one island, we came upon a slave sale. I didn't understand, so my father explained. About that time, this young boyâ€” he was probably about sixâ€”was put up for sale. I just couldn't believe it: a child, to be sold to perform ceaseless work! Quite impetuously, I had my father bid on him for me. Then he asked what I intended to do with him. I told my father that I would set him free, of course. Then my father asked me what would become of the boy. Who would care for him? So I set him free, but then I took him home with me. We trained him to be a servant, but he became so much more. He has been my confidante, my conscience, my friend ever since.

"But really, I am rambling now." Malcolm turned to look at Charles. "Because I don't want to tell you what else I remember."

Charles hugged Jamesâ€”Malcolmâ€”tighter for a minute, trying to give him his strength. Then Malcolm continued. "I am married." Both men sat quietly for a time, until Malcolm continued.

"Jenna was a childhood playmate. Her father is in the navy, of course. Our families 'socialized.' I love Jenna. I always have. It is a sweet love, as she is a sweet girl. But I doubt she is any more in love with me than I am in love with her. I guess it was always assumed that we would marry, and so we did. It never occurred to me to go against the family plans.

"But that was before I knew what it felt like to be in loveâ€”to love someone so much you feel like his heartbeat is just as essential to your life as your own. Before I met you." Malcolm pulled Charles down to a desperate kiss, full of heartbreak.

"Malcolm. My James. They are one and the same. I see that you are still the man I fell in love with. You are a man of honor, worthy of love. I hope your family appreciates you. I do." The two men sat for some time, as close as possible, as they contemplated the bleak turn their lives had taken.

After a time the men returned to their house and their bed. There was no passion, no lovemaking, just holding each other, touching and petting and entwining their bodies. Eventually they drifted off to sleep.

Charles was awakened by his mother's voice calling from the kitchen. He got up and went to her, "Mornin', Mama."

"Charles, is everything okay? When you didn't arrive at the shipyard again this morning, your father sent back a message that I should check on you. Are you ill? Or James?"

"I am not ill, Mama. Yesterday Ja...he was ill, but today he is not."

"Then why are you not at work? If you just wanted to take the day off, you could at least have told us so we..."

Malcolm entered the living room. Mama Tucker took one look at his haggard face, then looked closely at her son. "Is there something I should know? Something I can help with?" she asked, looking from one man to the other.

Charles went to his lover and placed an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in tight against him. "Mama, let me introduce you to Lieutenant Malcolm Reed."

Nancy Tucker immediately took two steps and embraced both of the men. "Oh, son, James...I mean Malcolm. From how you both look, I guess this is not exactly good news."

"Not really, Mama, at least not for us, as us."

"Sit down, boys. I will make you some hot tea, and then you can tell me all about it."

After Mama Tucker made the boys some tea and something to eat, Malcolm told her what he remembered about his life. When he was through, she asked him what he intended to do.

"There is only one choice, really, Mama Tucker. I must go home. I have a responsibility to my wife, my family, and my country," Malcolm replied. Then he continued, "That it will break my heart cannot figure into it."

Charles reached for him and pulled him close again. Over the dark head, he looked at his Mama and she saw the acceptance and despair in his face.

"I am so sorry, boys. Even though I feared something like this would befall you, I still hoped that you would be able to have your lives together. Just remember, we can't change what has been handed to you, but neither of you will be alone in this. I am going to go speak to your father, Charles, and tell him that you won't be in for a while. You two take the time you need, and when you are ready, we will help you however we can." And with a kiss and hug for both men, Nancy Tucker left.

Charles and Malcolm somehow got through the rest of the day. They continued to hold each other, to kiss and touch and take advantage of the opportunity to be together while they could. By unspoken consent, they avoided the topic of Malcolm's return to England and what it would mean for them. They did take the boat out in the late afternoon, lying in each other's arms as the boat drifted on the ocean that would take Malcolm away.

The night was spent in lovemaking, slow and gentle, then fierce and passionate, their appetites for each other insatiable. Finally, in the predawn hours, Charles lay on his back and pulled Malcolm to him, so that his dark head rested on his chest and his body was stretched out along Charles's length. While Malcolm drifted off to sleep, Charles ran his hand over his hair, down his back, and up again, rubbing slowly, soothingly. For Charles, sleep was impossible. He didn't know how many more nights he would have with this man who was his heart, and he couldn't bear to waste a minute.

The next morning, the two men walked along the beach. Malcolm reached for Charles's hand and told him, "I don't want to go back to the navy. I don't think I could bear to fight against you, and that is what I would be doing. My commitment is up in September. I won't re- enlist. I don't want to try to make it to a British ship. I would be put back in service. Nor do I really want to turn myself in to your military. I guess you can understand that."

"I wouldn't want that, either. But I am also glad you won't be going back in the navy. It is bad enough that you won't be here. But if I had to worry about you being in the middle of the war, I don't know if I could stand it. So what are you going to do?"

"I will try to get a place on a ship, make my way to the Indies, then to Europe, then England. By that time, I will no longer be committed to the navy. They may assume I was deadâ€”killed in a shipwreck. Certainly I have been ill. I will perfect a story as I go."

"That sounds like a good plan. You shouldn't have any trouble getting a place on a ship, but if you would like, my dad has friends. He knows the good ships, the good captains. I will feel better about your going if I know you are safeâ€”or as safe as you can be."

"All right, Charles. Then I...I guess we should talk to him about it. I would like to put this off, but that won't make it any easier."

"No, darlin'. Nothing can make this any easier. Let's go see my father."

* * *

It was another week before Mr. Tucker had news for them about a ship heading to St. Martin, and from there to France. He knew the shipping line and the captain of that particular ship, and he was able to secure working passage for Malcolm. "You will travel as James. I know the captain, and will ensure his cooperation with whatever story you work out. He will be pleased to have a trustworthy and able sailor with him, and I have no doubt that you will have him on your side ere long. The sailing date is August 12."

"One week, Malcolm. We have one more week, " Charles said, once they were alone again in their home. "That is not long enough. And it is also too long. I don't want to give up a moment of time with you, but each minute we share makes it harder to let you go."

Malcolm grabbed his lover in a tight hug. "I know, love. I feel the same. And I fear losing my resolve. If I don't go soon, I might not go."

"You are too good a person, Malcolm. You would never desert your responsibilities. And it might make your leaving harder, but I will cherish every minute of this last week with you."

The last night, Charles sat in the chaise longue in his front yard, Malcolm settled between his legs and held tightly to his chest. "You know that tomorrow marks four months from the time I first laid eyes on you, lying on the beach with the waves flowing around you. Four months. It is hard to believe the depth of feeling that has grown up in that time. You are my heart, Malcolm, my reason for being. What will I be without you?"

"Oh, Charles. I feel the same. The life I had before I met you was just existence. For the last four months, I have been living. How do I go back to just existing?"

"For all the ache, for all the loss that I am facing, I wouldn't go back to a time before I knew you. Malcolm, you have shown me what love is. At least I have had that."

Malcolm turned to straddle Charles. "I need you tonight. I need to fill this night with enough love to last the rest of my life." And he kissed Charles, sweetly, lingering long in the embrace. And when he broke off, both men had tears on their faces.

The night was spent in pleasuring each other. They started passionately, but before long discovered that they needed connection more than passion. They needed to be close, held, and treasured. They lay in the moonlight, each looking at the other, as if memorizing the sight of their loved one for the lonely times ahead. Charles ran his hands and lips over every inch of his lover's body, tasting and smelling the uniqueness of Malcolm. Malcolm also touched all of Charles, touching the downy hair on Charles's legs, the taut muscle of his abdomen, the beat of his pulse in his throat. They lay close, rocking their groins together in a blissful dance of love. They spooned, legs entwined, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth. They didn't sleep.

Sunrise found the two men on Charles's rock, looking out to sea. "This has always been my favorite spot. It was from this spot that I first saw you. It was here that I realized I needed to accept my feelings for you. I know that I will come here to think of you in the days, weeks, and years to come. And it is here that I will say good-bye to you. I can't go with you to the ship, Malcolm. I can't trust myself. I love you, Malcolm. I always will. Thank you for all you have given me."

* * *

The chill autumn breeze ruffled Charles hair as he sat on his rock and gazed across the ocean. Three months had passed since Malcolm had left. Charles figured he must be back in England by now, or at least in Europe. The three months had been the hardest that Charles had ever lived through.

He really didn't know how much his father and the rest of the family knew about his relationship with 'James,' nor did he care. They had all been supportive; he had to be thankful for that. If he didn't show up at the shipyard, nothing was said, although he usually found the days less difficult to survive if he worked hard and tried not to think of Malcolm. If he was quiet and withdrawn, it wasn't mentioned. Of course his mother had been there for him. She seemed to know when he was especially down. She wordlessly gave him the support he so desperately needed.

But the days were empty. He found that no matter where he looked, he saw Malcolmâ€”in his bed, at his table, in his chaise longue, in his sailboat, on his rock. There was nothing that didn't remind him of his lover, of his love.

Charles didn't turn at the sound of footsteps crunching on the sand. Perhaps they didn't really register.

"Charles."

He didn't turn at the sound of the voice, either. It seemed that he wasn't really there.

"Charles!" His friend came around to the front of the rock and put his hand on his arm.

"Jonathan!" Charles jumped off the rock and grabbed his friend in a great hug. "Jonathan, it is good to see you. When did you get back into port? How is your wife?"

Jonathan Archer returned the hug of his childhood friend. "It is good to see you, too, Charles. I arrived last night, and my family is all doing well. But we can talk about that later. You, my friend, look like something washed in by the tide. I came by when I didn't find you at the shipyard. What's going on?"

"A long and sad story, Jon. I think this can best be discussed in front of the fire. I can even offer you a meal. Do you have some time, or are you expected somewhere?"

"I have the rest of the day for you, Charles. Let's head to your house, and you can tell me all about it."

When the two men were settled beside the fire with ham sandwiches and milk, Charles started his story.

"I met someone, fell deeply in love, had a passionate love affair, and lost my love, all in the space of four months. I have to tell you, Jon, I have gone from the heights of joy to the depths of despair. But I don't see a way out of the depths, Jon. I had hoped that with time, I would see some lessening of the pain, but the opposite is true."

Jonathan nodded. "When I look at you, I can believe that you are truly desolate. The normally enthusiastic, cheerful Charles Tucker I remember is merely a shadow of his former self. You've lost weight, and you look pale. Could you give me a little more detail? I would really like to know about the woman who so captured your heart, and about what could take her away from you."

"Jon, some of the things I have to tell you are hard. I...I worry that you will be put off by what I say. In truth, if you hadn't been my friend for more than half of my life, I don't know if I could tell you. But I need to talk to someone. Mama has been right here for me, of course, but I need to talk to my friend."

"Tell me, Charles. I can't conceive of anything that would cause me to lose my affection for you."

"I found a man one morning who had washed up onto the beach. He was unconscious, and had some injuries. I brought him back here, and with Mistress Cutler's help, tended him. He didn't awaken for a week, and when he did he had no memory. None. He was wearing the uniform of the British Navy when I found him, and he spoke with an English accent, but of course that didn't come into consideration when I was tending him.

"Mama gave him the name of James. He was...I don't know. He was helpless for a couple more weeks, and then slowly he began to recover. I spent a lot of time with him, taking care of him and just talking to him. Somehow, he worked his way into my heart. I didn't set out to love that man, Jon. I was surprised, and I wanted to be disgusted with myself. Lord, Jon, men don't love each other!" Charles stopped speaking, but was leery of looking at his friend.

Jonathan sat quietly for a minute, and then reached out a hand to the other man. His voice was calm, accepting, when he said, "Is there more you want to tell me?"

Charles, relieved that his friend hadn't immediately rejected him, continued. "After about a month, James made it clear that he was uh, interested in me. I let him know that I felt the same. And then we just sort of fell in love with each other. I don't know how to explain it, Jon, but he just became essential to me. And for the next couple of months I lived in heaven. I loved everything about him, and time with him, no matter what we were doing, was wonderful."

"So what happened?"

"One day he remembered. His real name, his real life. His wife."

"Charles..." Jon grasped his friend's shoulder in a gesture of support.

"Yeah. He had a life and he had to go back to it. I know that it was as hard for him as for me. But he was an honorable man, and he would not ignore his responsibilities. It has been three months, and I guess he is back home now.

"Life was what I had with James. Now I just...exist." And to his friend's dismay, Charles began to weep.


	7. Chapter 7

Charles was very glad to have his friend home for the winter. At least when spending time with Jonathan and his wife, he was drawn out of his memories for a short while. And if his eyes no longer sparkled like sun on water, they did at least lose the shadows that had encircled them for so long. If he no longer had enthusiasm for any aspect of his life, he at least regained contentment in his work.

Spring found him once again rising each morning to appreciate the beauty of sunrise over the ocean. Staring out over the waves from his rock, Charles would reminisce about the time he had spent with Malcolm. Though the pain was still there, it had dulled with time, and he was able to enjoy the memories he had of his lover. On the twelfth of April, Charles woke quite early. He took a long walk up and down the beach, ending on his rock. As he gazed at the spot where he had first spotted the flotsam that had so changed his life, he gave a huge sigh. "It's been one year, Malcolm, since the day I first saw you." Charles spoke out loud. "And though not having you hurts like hell, I wouldn't trade anything for the love we shared. Not everyone finds a love like we had. Thank you, Malcolm, for loving me."

"I still love you, Charles," a soft voice spoke from behind him.

Charles leapt from the rock and spun around. "Malcolm!" Charles was frozen, staring at the man he had never thought to see again. "What...why..."

"Do you still love me?"

Charles grabbed the dark-haired man in a fierce hug. "Of course I do. I cannot not love you."

"Can I come home?"

In answer, Charles slid one hand behind his lover's head, turned it up to him and kissed him, slowly, thoroughly, with all the pent-up passion and pain of the past eight months.

When the two men parted, out of breath but eyes sparkling, Charles climbed back on the rock and pulled his friend up beside him and said, "Tell me, please, how it is you are here with me."

Malcolm settled in next to Charles and began his story. "My journey home would have been pleasant, were it not for the fact that it took me from you," Malcolm began. "The voyage was uneventful, the captain fair. We worked up the story that he fished me from the ocean, wounded and with no memoryâ€”all true enough, but in our story, he, not you, had fixed me up and let me work for him. After three months, I regained my memory and so made my way back to England. With his backing, no one questioned the story. I showed up at navy headquarters in October. They contacted my father, and he came to get me. When I told him I didn't want to rejoin the navy, he was not pleased, but I think he thought it was reaction to my ordeal and that I would change my mind.

"My return was a shock to my wife, but I also received quite a shock when I found her large with child and near to delivery. Sweet Jenna received me back with joy. She told me that she found out she was pregnant not long before she received word that my ship had been lost, and she thought she would never see me again. Scarcely one week after my return, she gave birth to twins. I am a father, Charles." Charles's response was to tighten his arms around Malcolm. "Jenna never regained her strength. The delivery of two babies was too much for her. Before they reached one month of age, she was gone."

"Oh, Malcolm. I am so sorry, for you and for your childrenâ€”and to be reunited with your Jenna for such a short time!" He laid his head on Malcolm's as Malcolm turned his face into his shoulder.

"I felt guilty, Charles. Like somehow it was my fault. I felt guilty that I had had you and your love and left her alone for so long."

"Malcolm! There was nothing you could have done about that. You did return to her! And as for loving me, you didn't know who you were..."

"I know that, Charles, but the guilt was still there. And in truth, I felt most guilty that I had never loved her as much as I love you. I spent the next couple of months with my family. The babies did give me legitimate reason for not returning to the navy, as even my father understood I didn't want to leave them alone, although I hired a wet nurse, whose help proved invaluable.

"I began to dream of returning to you. At first I wouldn't let myself think of itâ€”it seemed wrong, somehow, to contemplate such happiness so soon after Jenna's death. But I talked to Travis, to whom I told everything, and he led me to understand that Jenna was dead, and my being unhappy wouldn't help her any. So he and I set about to come here. I plan to build a life for myself and my children in this new country," and here he smiled at Charles, "and I booked passage for myself, my children, and Travis. For of course nothing would do for him but that he come with us."

"They're here? Your children are here with you? You're staying, right? All of you?" Charles was so excited and flustered that his sentences tumbled one after another.

"Shh, love. Calm down. Yes, at least I want to stay. But I...the children. It is a lot to ask you to accept."

"I love you, Malcolm. I want you here with me, always. I want your children, your Travis, every part of your life you will share with me. I love you."

"As I love you, Charles."

"Where are your babies, Malcolm? What are their names?" "James Malcolm and Jenna Michelle."

"James. That is perfect. And Jenna. You are lucky, Malcolm."

As Malcolm hugged his lover to him, he answered, "I am well aware of that. I left them with Travis at your house. I hope you don't mind."

"Our house, Malcolm. Let's go home."

* * *

"They are perfect, Malcolm. Beautiful," Charles said as he looked at the six-month old twins. Malcolm held James, a chubby baby with dark hair, dark blue eyes, and dimples low on his cheeks. Jennaâ€”an angel with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes, like her mother, Malcolm told himâ€”was smiling from Travis's lap. Travis had liked Charles immediately, and Charles had felt the same way about the handsome dark-skinned man. Each could see that the other loved Malcolm, and that was enough to base a friendship on. It helped that Travis knew the other two men were in love and was comfortable with it.

It was agreed that Travis would stay in the spare room with the babies until yet another room could be added. Malcolm sent him off to the ship to arrange for the transport of their baggage to the beach house. Charles asked him to stop at his family home on the way and ask Mama Tucker to come, but to give no further information.

Before long, his mother was knocking on Charles's door. As she let herself, in she was asking, "Charles, what is it? Who was that man who..." She went perfectly still as she saw Malcolm standing in the room.

"Oh, son. Are you back with us?" Nancy Tucker asked, as she enveloped the man in a motherly hug.

"Yes, Mama Tucker, I am, if you will all have me. And I have brought some friends," he smiled as he pointed to the twins peeking out from their baskets.

"Oh, Malcolm. They're beautiful. Yours?"

"Yes. My babies. Malcolm and Jenna. They have lost their mother. I brought them back to the place where I have known the most love."

"I will love them as my grandbabies!" Then Nancy Tucker turned to her son. "Charles. For the first time in longer than I care to think about, I see peace and contentment on your face. I am happy for you." And she hugged him fiercely as tears ran down both their faces.

After a long day of talking and settling everyone into the suddenly too-small home, Charles and Malcolm were finally alone on the chaise, looking out over the ocean as the sky darkened.

"I never thought I would have you in my arms again, Malcolm. All those months, I just existedâ€”getting up each morning because I had to, dreading bed because I would be alone, but longing for sleep and escape from consciousness. God, Malcolm, I never knew it could hurt so much!"

"I know, Charles. I also felt like part of me was missing. When I knew that I would never see you again, I felt so lost, so empty. At least after the babies were born I had them to fill my days. And I had the hope, the dream, that I could come back to you. But I couldn't tell you until I knew I was coming, and by then, I could get here as fast as a letter. And I wasn't completely sure I would be welcomed back." Charles gripped his lover in an almost painful hug. "Not welcomed back! How could you think that? I love you. I will never let you go again. You understand?" And he gave him a gentle shake.

"I understand, Charles, and believe me, I never want to leave you, either."

The two men got up and moved together to the bedroom, arms entwined, walking in tandem. When they reached their room, Charles captured Malcolm's mouth in a deep, searching kiss, exploring all of his mouth, remembering and reclaiming this part of his lover. It had been a long time since he had made love to Malcolm, and he wanted to take his time. Malcolm sensed how Charles felt and succumbed completely to the sensations that enveloped him as he spent that night, the first of the rest of their lives together, with his lover.

* * *

Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker III slowly roused. He had no idea how long he had been out this time, but he recognized the sounds and smells of sickbay. But waking this time, he was disoriented. Wasn't he just on the beach with his lover?

Lover? Where had that come from? And why was he on a beach in colonial America? He tried to remember his entire dream, but the more he thought about it, the hazier it became. He looked around. Though he saw Doctor Phlox making his way toward him, he saw no one else around, and for some reason he couldn't quite grasp, that bothered him. Who did he expect, want, to be here when he awoke?

"Commander!" Phlox said cheerily. "It is a joy to have you back with us again. You took a nasty hit to your head, but you will be fine."

"What happened? I remember being in Engineering, and a sudden shaking...The ship? Anyone else hurt?"

"Relax, Commander, the ship is fine, and though there were a few bruises and scrapes, yours was the worst injury. You were thrown from your console and hit your head quite sharply on the bulkhead. But you have only been out for about eight hoursâ€”just long enough for me to take care of all your minor injuries. And, I might add, long enough to receive the report that Engineering is back in pristine shape and you are not to worry."

"When can I go back to my quarters?"

"Always so anxious to leave me! Barring any unforeseen difficulties, and if you rest well tonight, you will be dismissed tomorrow, but not to duties. Why don't you get some rest?"

"I just woke up, and I'm not tired," Trip said, "and I thought at least someone would be here to see me when I woke up."

"Captain Archer has been in a couple of times, but does have a ship to run. Lieutenant Reed was here for several hours, but the captain finally ordered him to return to his quarters to sleep."

Trip frowned, thinking of blue-gray eyes. "Malcolm was here? Hmm. Malcolm. That reminds me of a dream," Trip mumbled to himself.

"What was that?" Phlox asked with his usual interest in every facet of human lives.

"Oh, nothin'. I think I will try to get a little more sleep. G'night, Doctor."

Trip turned his head to the wall and closed his eyes, but he didn't go to sleep. He was remembering more of the dreamâ€”dream? It seemed so real, like he had been there.

He had the feeling that he really needed to talk to Malcolm.

* * *

After Phlox released him early the next morning with an order to take it easy, Trip went to the mess and grabbed a cup of coffee and a piece of pie. Then he went to his quarters, where he spent the next several hours working up the courage to go talk to Malcolm. His subconscious had been trying to tell him something for a while now, but this dream, or vision, or whatever it was that he had experienced while he was unconscious, had laid it out for him. Trip had to talk to Malcolm. Malcolm had become Trip's best friend slowly during the time they had served together on the Enterprise. They had bonded despite, or perhaps because of, their differences. But Trip had been aware for some time that his feelings toward Malcolm were changing. Although he hadn't been able toâ€”or perhaps hadn't been willing toâ€” give a name to the new feelings, he couldn't deny that they were there.

Now, because of a dream, he wondered if he couldn't perhaps name the new feelings that Malcolm engendered in him. The problem was, of course, that he had no way of knowing if the real-life Malcolm had any feelings other than friendship for him. And this was the dilemma that kept him in his quarters all afternoon, dreading and anticipating his talk with Malcolm.

The end of shift having occurred an hour before, Trip went to the computer to locate Malcolm. Before he could initiate the search, his door chimed. He got up and went to the door.

"Malcolm!" Trip stared at the younger man. His thoughts had been so focused on finding Malcolm and what he was going to say to him that he was a little surprised to find him at his door.

"Commander? May I come in?"

"Course, Malcolm. You just caught me by surprise. I was just comin' to find you."

"You were?"

"Yeah. Hadn't seen you since our last little adventure and I thought I would catch up."

"Yes. I have been somewhat busy, what with repairs and reports. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Trip said. But after a minute he amended. "Well, mostly fine. Truth is, Malcolm, I need to talk to you. You got a minute?"

"Of course, Commander. What can I help you with?"

"Have a seat, Malcolm. And the commander doesn't need anything. It's Trip that needs to talk to you. Can I get you a drink?"

"Not now, thank you," Malcolm said as he sat on the desk chair. He looked at Trip, who, surprisingly, paced around the room a couple of times before sitting on the edge of his bunk.

"Malcolm, did any of your folks ever live in America. Like, a long time ago?"

Taken off guard, Malcolm stared at his friend for a moment. "Trip, what are you talking about?"

"Please, Malcolm, just answer the question."

Malcolm thought for a while, than answered. "I did hear of a fellow once," and Malcolm gave a little snort. "It was something my father said during one of our discussions about the navy. He said that he should have known better than to name me Malcolm since the only other coward in the family was also called Malcolm. I wouldn't have known what he was talking about, except my Aunt Sherry was there and she filled me in on some of the less popular Reed family history.

"It seems that during the unfortunate war, one of my ancestors, also called Malcolm, quit the navy, and the war, to go live in the new country of America. He took his children.."

"Twins," Trip whispered.

Malcolm stared at him. "Right. He took his twins and went to the colonies. He stayed there for some ten or so years, until his father died. Then he returned with his children and an American shipbuilderâ€”a friend or business partner or some such. He took over his father's estate and they started a shipyard. The business flourished and was passed on to his son. I am afraid that is all Aunt Sherry told me."

"James."

"Excuse me?" Malcolm looked at his friend with concern.

"James. The son's name was James."

Malcolm stared. "Trip, why don't you tell me what is going on?"

"Malcolm, I need a drink. I think maybe you should have one, too. Then I am going to tell you all about the dream I had while I was unconscious."


End file.
